


I'm Set on Fire to Keep You Warm

by feistymuffin



Series: Accidental Alpha [4]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Rimming, Sexual Content, Weddings, Werewolves, schmoopy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 13:52:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11670396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feistymuffin/pseuds/feistymuffin
Summary: Mark and Jack get married, and then some.





	I'm Set on Fire to Keep You Warm

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy, and another one. Wedding fluff and some post wedding smut, and you all should definitely expect more from this series.

Amy pops her head into the room, eyeing Mark where he stands staring nervously at his own reflection. Her hair is done up in a delicate coiffure spilling over with platinum blonde curls from the crown of her head, all threaded in with thin strands of tiny flowers, and when she shakes her head in mock disappointment the waterfall of curls bounces merrily around her face.

“Oh, baby,” she sighs, coming into the room and shutting the door behind her. Her outfit is as dazzling as her hair, a sparkling, close-fitting sea foam green dress with a scattering of sparkling fabric that makes it look like she’s strolling through a minty snowstorm as she walks. “You guys are so meant for each other. Jack is giving Signe two handfuls of drama as we speak.” She gives Mark a look bristling with pride as she meets his gaze in the mirror. She walks up behind her alpha and turns him around to face her, fixing his bowtie and smiling as he chews his lip. “How do you get to this point and still have insecurities? You and Jack…” She sighs again, but it’s happy this time. “You guys have just got it, you know?”

He does know. He’s known for the past two years, since the first time he laid eyes on Jack that the man was his and his alone, that only he would give Mark the kind of life he dreamed of since he was turned. Jack has made his life the best it’s ever been, but since Mark proposed it’s been a test of nerves every day. Every day, waking up and expecting Jack to somehow leave him behind in pursuit of someone better. Someone who doesn’t leave their dirty clothes everywhere and expect Jack to pick them up just because he’s the one who does most of the laundry. Someone who can deal with Jack’s outbursts of temper when Mark tries to control a decision of his. Someone who won’t try to control his decisions at all—even out of good intention.

After Jack was poisoned Mark was ridiculous—he’s admitted it out loud and he’ll gladly do it again, because he was borderline mental for three weeks after the incident. He would growl at anyone who wasn’t pack that so much as looked in Jack’s direction. He insisted that he go everywhere with Jack and that he follow him to work. Needless to say, Jack got sick of it pretty quick, and their first big fight happened. It was awful, Mark remembers with a hollow feeling in his chest, and there were things said that neither of them will be able to forget even though they’ve long since been forgiven. Things were strained, but they got better.

Two years is a lot of time to mess up, and they’ve done their share. There have been nights that Mark spent sleeping in Amy’s bed, or Jack in Signe’s, because of a huge fight that neither of them were willing to yield on. They’ve had screaming matches so bad that, once, the police were called on them for a domestic disturbance and Mark was almost arrested when he couldn’t quite control his temper in front of the officers. It was after their second big fight, and both of them weren’t in their right minds, too angry and too bitter to see things clearly, to know when lines had been crossed until it was too late to go back. In the end it was Jack that took the reigns from him and pulled the argument to a screeching halt, soothing him with a steady hand in Mark’s hot, shaking one, and assuring the police that everything was under control.

“Yeah,” Mark says, and swallows. Amy gives him a wry little smile and pecks his cheek with a kiss, then rubs off the print she left behind with her thumb. “Everything is all ready to go?”

“Just waiting on you two studs to get your shit together,” Amy confirms, nodding. She smooths the sleeves of his tux and fusses over his cufflinks for a moment, giving him a long perusal, even circling him and adjusting his slacks. “You look perfect, hun. And so does Jack.”

“He’s doing okay, right?” Mark asks her, nervous for his mate now more than himself. Jack panics just as bad as him, sometimes, when he knows what he’s doing is important—like at Henrietta’s birth, Jack almost refused to hold her because he was afraid he wouldn’t do it right, that he’d hurt her. Despite having the same fear it was Mark who coached Jack through it, helped him support her tiny body in his hands, showed how to tuck her against his chest. Henrietta had snuggled right up to her godfather and fallen asleep as peacefully as if she’d known him for years, and Jack still denies it to this day but he cried just a bit over their newest, littlest pack member. 

“See?” Mark teased him, and pressed kiss after kiss to Jack’s hair as Henrietta slept in his arms. The omega didn’t take his eyes off her, staring down into his arms like he’d been handed the stars, bottled up inside an angel sent down from heaven. “I knew you could do it. You’re already a natural, and this one isn’t even ours.”

“You’re damn right she isn’t,” Felix scolded them playfully from where he cuddled with Marzia on the hospital bed. “That’s a nine month investment, right there. Damn good dividends, too.”

“She’s such a little darling,” Signe cooed, stroking a finger down her little leg and peeking at her face, half-hidden in Jack’s shirt. “I want one.”

He turned to her and pet a hand down her hair. It was longer then. “Bring it up with Alistair,” Mark invited cheekily, mentioning her two-week-old boyfriend, and Signe swatted him with a light laugh.

Mark snaps back to the present when Amy pinches his cheek, and he chomps at her fingers with a sinister waggle of his eyebrows. She yanks her hand back, giggles and leans her shoulder into his chest and without even thinking about it Mark wraps around her and buries his nose in her hair, careful not to upset its perfection. 

“Jack is fine, silly,” she murmurs, hands caressing over his arms. “And so are you.”

They stay like that for a long time and Mark soaks up the comfort she offers, sighing when he feels the subtle presence of her magic. It sinks into his skin and slowly, slowly permeates through him until all he knows is peace, all he has is anticipation to be bound to the love of his life.

“Thank you,” Mark tells her, kissing her ear before pulling away. 

“I had to do the same for Jack ten minutes ago,” Amy muses, and Mark chuckles. “C’mere, let’s fix that bird’s nest.” He lets her fuss over his hair for a handful of seconds and then she’s moving to the door, giving him a wink and a wave before disappearing behind it.

Mark stands in front of the mirror again, tugging his sleeves unnecessarily and generally fidgeting until there’s another knock on the door a couple minutes after Amy left. Marzia and Felix open the door wide, both dressed to kill in a charcoal tux and a floor length gown that shimmers like coppery gold, along with a matching shawl in a sheer, glistening fabric. Felix bows deeply and then straightens, gesturing broadly for Mark to follow Marzia when she gives him a serene, blissfully happy smile and walks on down the hall.

He follows her, and Felix shuts the door behind them. “Where’s Henrietta?”

“Your mom offered to take her while we got you,” Felix muses. “Child for a child, she said.”

“Sounds like Mom,” Mark laughs softly. He pauses behind Marzia when she stops, and Felix moves ahead with a thumbs up to Mark, moving into the small church’s chancel and down a side aisle to where Mark’s mother and brother presumably sit. Mark breathes in a deep breath and follows Marzia down the main aisle when she moves again, keeping two paces behind her.

Werewolves get united in a slightly different way than humans, but the concept is essentially the same. The packmates who are getting married have their alphas walk the aisle first and lead them forward—first the groom is brought to the altar to wait for the the bride, and then the bride’s alpha brings her up the aisle to the groom. With two grooms, Marzia will escort Mark to the altar, and then Jack as well later on. The rest is almost all the same except for the end of the ceremony. The reception, Mark was explicitly told, will become a madhouse one way or another.

Amy and Signe, looking beautiful in a skintight lavender mermaid-style dress, are already at one side of the altar and when he gets there and takes his spot on the left, Amy takes her place at the altar, opening the book in her hands and setting it on the waist-high surface. Marzia nods at him, offers a soft smile, and goes back down the aisle to get Jack. 

As a wolf wiccan Amy is certified to officiate a werewolf marriage, and she volunteered—read: assumed the role without anyone suggesting otherwise—gladly for the job. She beams at Mark and blows him a kiss, which he snatches from the air and presses to his heart. Her expressions softens and Mark smiles at her when he sees her eyes dewing with tears. 

With little Henrietta in hand, dressed adorably in a frilly little blue dress with matching shoes and a hair bow in her dark curls, Felix takes his spot on Jack’s side of the altar with Signe. They debated the symbolism for a while, of who stood on whose side, when they were making the plans for the wedding one night with the whole pack. It went on back and forth for a while before Mark said with irritation, “Well, what’s it matter? We all belong to one another anyway.” 

He learned from that mistake, because he spent the rest of the night getting nothing done at the bottom of a puppy pile, as Amy calls them. Honest flattery just gets your ass covered in werewolves.

Mark frowns as he fiddles with his cufflinks, anxiously looking around the church packed with his and Jack’s family and friends. Mark’s side of the pews are filled with more friends than family, since he just has his mother and brother, and the reverse is true for Jack’s side. His four siblings, parents, and grandmother all take up one whole pew. While the ceremony and wedding are quite small, only thirty or so people, it still feels like everyone’s stares have the weight of buildings behind them as the majority of them watch him.

Music starts slowly—not a traditional wedding march but Mark supposes it’s the werewolf equivalent, mid-tempo pace with soft beats and a peaceful melody—and with a huge swallow Mark fixes his eyes on the end of the aisle where Marzia will lead Jack out. He feels nerves clamming up his hands and he flexes them, willing the anxious moisture away. His chest trembles, hollowed out by panic and irrational fear, and he knows as soon as he sees Jack it’s all just going to get worse.

Marzia appears first, taking measured steps down the hall leading to the centre aisle before turning and smiling at someone just out of view. Her mouth moves, and Mark picks out the words “He’s there, waiting for you” before Jack nearly stumbles into view, so uncharacteristically clumsy that Mark has to stifle his chuckle with a hand.

Jack looks up quickly at the sound as he straightens and their eyes clash like swords, with all the intensity of a war zone. The peril in Jack’s eyes drains away and Mark feels his own body calming at the sight of his mate, everything calming back down to normal as Marzia nods once to assure that Jack follows, and begins the walk to Mark.

It takes a millennium, it seems, for Jack and Marzia to reach him. His eyes absorb Jack’s perfect tux, his slightly crooked bowtie and his soft-looking hair, fluffed and combed into a modest hairstyle, stylish and attractive. His face is clean shaven, as is Mark’s, and without his beard he knows Jack must feel as naked as he does.

Marzia turns at the altar to face Jack as he comes to her, and kisses his brow gently before moving to Mark’s side. Jack steps up beside Mark and turns to face him, and right then as he looks at Jack’s face, so radiantly beautiful and full of love for him, Mark knows that he’ll remember what’s about to happen for the rest of his life.

“Thank you all for coming today,” Amy begins warmly, “to witness this union. Grooms, join hands.” They do, and Mark smiles when Jack’s hands are as sweaty as his. Jack’s own smile is tiny, just for him, and Mark aches with the need to kiss him. Not yet, though.

“In life, there are many things that we can’t anticipate,” Amy says, her voice carrying through the room. “Luck, for instance, both good and bad. Random chances appear in odd ways throughout our lives, sometimes through misfortune—” Here she looks at Mark, and the corner of his mouth quirks ruefully, “—and grief, and sometimes not. Sometimes, we see the thing for what it is, and not what it can carry with it in possibilities. It’s times like these that we can find strength in our decisions, in our attitudes, and discover ways to blossom in the shade. Lesser light proves that even shadows may bring warmth, and from warmth we draw the light necessary to carry on.

“Mark, repeat after me,” she continues, turning to him. Mark feels his back stiffen and forces himself to relax. Jack squeezes his fingers once, hard, before loosening again, and Mark breathes in his mate’s scent to calm himself as he repeats the vows Amy recites.

“I swear to love you,” Mark says after her, and Jack’s eyes start glistening suspiciously when Mark’s voice lowers with feeling until he’s sure the humans present are having difficulty hearing, “even in times of strife, to hold you even when I wish to be apart, to cherish what you are to me regardless of our quarrels. I swear to find the will to carry on for you when your own will falters, and to be your port in the storm when you can’t find your way. I swear to be yours, evermore, until the Moon claims me.”

Jack’s throat bobs in a shaky swallow, and it’s Mark’s turn to hold his fingers tightly, to hold his eyes until the tears slowly recede. His vows are shakier than Mark’s but he feels his eyes watering the more emotion he hears in Jack’s voice, the more it trembles as he looks up at Mark like he’s the whole world. Mark _feels_ like his whole world, feels like Jack is his. 

Once Jack finishes his vows Amy takes their joined hands and lifts them to shoulder height. She twirls a finger in a close circle, pointed first at Mark’s left hand and then she moves slowly to point at Jack’s. As he watches her something pale and purple twines around his ring finger, and he feels the magic on his skin like a silky wisp of wind. The tie reaches over their bound hands and all the way over to Jack’s ring finger, where it loops around and then goes all the way back to Mark’s again. The two ends start tangling together, forming an intricate, complicated knot in the air before cinching tightly shut into a bulging ball of magic. As soon as the knot closes it all disappears in a small little burst and Mark feels the presence of it steadily seeping into his hand, situated almost solely on his third finger. As he waits and looks at Jack’s face, Mark sees the similar reaction in his mate—his _husband_ —as the power moves slowly up his arm and languidly spreads all throughout his chest. 

“The bond is set,” Amy decrees, and both of them jump at the sudden sound. She laughs and says cheerfully, “You may kiss your husband, Alpha Fischbach. And I know you’re dying to.”

Some of their guests laugh but Mark can barely hear it over the clamouring sound of his and Jack’s heartbeats, rumbling in his ears like thunder. He’s already reaching for Jack’s face by the time Amy’s finished talking, taking a step forward to close the distance between them that feels like miles. He grabs him at the same moment that Jack gets his hands around Mark’s waist and it’s like kissing a light socket when their lips meet. The omega clings to his jacket with a harsh grip and Mark crushes his mouth into Jack’s, swallowing every feeling that wants to bubble up out of him and replacing it with what they make together—the kind of happiness and love that they write songs about.

There are a few whistles from the pews and Mark draws back, grinning when he sees Jack’s shameless little smirk. He smooths his hands over Jack’s face before taking his hand and turning to their guests. Loud applause, surprisingly loud for such a small congregation, and some cheers follow them all the way down the aisle, out of the chapel and into the waiting car to take them to the reception. 

Tucked in the backseat with Jack pressed surely to his side, Mark hums deeply and noses at his husband’s neck. “We’re married. Really, honestly married.”

“I know, I was there,” Jack sighs happily, and squeaks when Mark lifts him up and puts him back down in his lap before returning to his neck, leaving a trail of kisses over the pale skin. “Mark, my fuckin’ god, you are not havin’ sex with me in this car.”

“Well, that’s not a very positive attitude,” Mark hums. He nips his teeth along Jack’s jugular, smoothing his hands over Jack’s thighs and ass and canting his hips up in little circles. “Where’s your sense of adventure, darling?”

“It’s at the reception, where we’re goin’, where people will see us,” Jack says sternly, but his voice falters considerably when Mark holds their hips together and grinds hard. His mouth becomes a sucking moisture beneath Jack’s ear and the omega bucks in his lap when he bites softly at the mark he leaves behind. “Oh, come on, this isn’t playin’ fair.”

Mark smiles into his pulse and lifts his head to kiss multiple apologies along Jack’s lips. “Sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself. Reception and _then_ the honeymoon, with my beautiful husband.”

Rapturously pleased, Jack lets his head fall to rest on Mark’s shoulder. His giggle is all boyish excitement, giddy and elated. “We’re really married. You married me.”

“I married you,” Mark agrees softly, fingertips like a crescendo as he moves his hands up Jack’s body. He’s still having trouble believing Jack said yes when Mark popped the question all those months ago and now they’ve just tied the knot, literally. “It almost feels… surreal. Like I’m dreaming, and I’m going to wake up and I haven’t even asked you yet.”

“I’m so glad you did,” Jack whispers, and his head lifts until their eyes meet again, and it’s just like every time, just like the first time. Slowly Jack leans down and kisses him, torturously tender and gentle as he paints a love story on Mark’s mouth. He takes Mark’s face in his hands and they’re both trembling, shivering with all the feeling that Mark knows Jack is swathed in, that he himself is surrounded by. 

There’s a knock on the window and Mark grumbles, but he lets Jack climb off his lap. “We’ve got plenty of time for everythin’ else later,” Jack reminds him, but he lingers, threading his fingers into Mark’s.

“I hate to tell you, but I’m going to get bristly whenever someone takes your attention away from me tonight,” Mark murmurs. With a wicked grin he pulls Jack back to him as the omega goes to open the door. “You’re just going to have to deal with it.” And he steals a kiss, pushing every little thing away until all that’s left is Jack in his arms.

Another knock on the window precedes Felix whipping open the door and bending down to grin at both of them. “Come on, now, boys. Party time, and then you can make out in whatever places you’d like.”

“Alpha says go away,” Mark intones grumpily, but laughs when Jack pecks his mouth with smiling lips, then repeatedly all over his face, making little _mwah_ noises each time. Beneath the merriment Jack’s body feels like a stripped wire under his hands, thrumming with energy and passion, but now’s not the time. “Okay, fine, I will socialize.”

“Atta boy,” Felix laughs. He steps back to let Jack and then Mark crawl out of the car, and as he straightens Mark sees Marzia cooing to Henrietta just inside the back doors to the reception hall, bouncing the one-year-old on her hip and completely unperturbed by the way the baby chews on her expensive shawl. Amy and Signe stand to one side talking, but when the newlyweds show up both girls are rushing over to jump on their packmates. 

Jack catches Signe with a grunt and smiles when she hugs him tightly. “You know, you might try to act like a lady. You’re in a dress and everythin’.”

“Phooey on being a lady,” Signe mutters, sounding put-out. “I’m here for family and a good time, not to impress.” 

Mark laughs into Amy’s hair while she abuses him lovingly with her nails in his back, hugging him so hard he’s actually breathing rougher than before. “Easy, tiger. I bruise easily.”

“Like hell you do,” Amy giggles, and sighs blissfully as she draws back. Signe comes to Mark then, and Amy swaps her place in Jack’s arms. “Both of you are just too precious to even fathom. Look at those smiles, Signe. Like angels.”

“Our newlyweds,” Signe murmurs happily. Mark swings her around in a circle, pleased when she laughs, light and airy like a bell, and then sets her down again. 

“Come on, hooligans,” Felix coaxes, ushering everyone into the building. “We’re holding up the party.”

It seems that everyone at the ceremony beat them to the reception by the small crowd of people already in the room, and it’s not hard to believe considering Mark and Jack were significantly waylaid by themselves. The moderately-sized room is half-full of small, round tables with name cards for seat placement and one long, narrow table at the opposite end of the room for the bridal party. Between the tables and the doors they’re entering from is a dance floor, large enough to house probably all of their guests at once, and a DJ booth set up in the corner, the DJ busily working at his computer.

At their entry the herd of people disperses and Mark takes Jack’s hand as they progress to their seats at the centre of the long table. Applause and cheers ring out again as Mark and Jack take their seats, and with loving delight Mark watches the blush creep up Jack’s face when his two older brothers call out some very suggestive things from their table nearby. Their mother smacks them both and scolds them, though, so Jack doesn’t look like he’s that torn up about it.

The speeches get underway once everyone is seated, and Felix goes first. Jack laughs until he cries for his speech, reminiscing over the last two years of the pack’s life and specifying on their time together. He ribs Jack for giving Mark such a hard time in the beginning, and then becoming a big softy for the man. 

“It’s mutual,” Mark says loudly, grinning and planting a kiss on Jack’s nose. Jack’s blush didn’t lessen, but his laughing got worse after that.

When Marzia stands to deliver her speech she commandeers the room’s respect instantly. It’s short but proud, gushing with compliments and well wishes, emphatic with feeling. Mark’s grip on his husband’s hand becomes crushing at one point, when Marzia tells everyone about the night Mark got ridiculously drunk at Marzia and Felix’s after Jack kicked him out of the apartment. Big Fight Number Four.

“Mark was so sure he had done irreparable damage,” Marzia tells the room, and beside her Mark is shrinking in his chair. He’s not proud of what he said to Jack, and definitely not proud of what he accused him of. Jack squeezes his hand so hard that Mark glances up at him and Jack is looking right back, blue eyes wide and loving, and Mark feels himself relaxing incrementally. “So sure he’d ruined what they had. He was going to leave and never come back, he said. He even bought a plane ticket, and was convinced that he had to leave the moment he was sober, first thing in the morning.”

“You never told me that,” Jack whispers with an edge of horror to his voice, fingers like vipers as his nails bite into the skin of Mark’s forearm. “You never told me that.”

“You didn’t need to know,” Mark murmurs back and wants to say more, but Marzia is paving on. 

“Of course, Jack showed up in the middle of the night and they made up—and defiled some of my furniture—and they moved on.” Marzia pauses for the laughter to die a little, and she smiles and turns her kind brown eyes on Mark. “At the time, I didn’t know what to say to you, Mark, and I’m sorry for that. Now, I can tell you that every wrong decision you think you’ve made has shaped you into the amazing person you are, and in turn you’ve helped bring out the greater parts of Jack.” Her smile turns vivacious, overpowering in its elation as she looks to her omega. “Jack, you’ve always been a sort of cornerstone in the pack, the one who rose the farthest, the one who worked hardest and fought hardest and did the most. You deserve everything that Mark has given you, that you think he spoils you with, and you deserve everything he’ll give you down the road. 

“The two of you have created fights out of nothing, and solved arguments with nothing, and compromised and problem-solved and made it through all of it despite both of your tempers and prides not allowing much wiggle room for such things. You’ve never let go of each other, even in the moments when maybe others would have, when others said you should’ve. The two of you…” She shakes her head with a wry smile, her elegant hairdo waving with the motion, and raises her wine glass high. “Well. It’s one for the story books. To Jack and Mark.”

The cacophony of tinkling glasses lights up the hall, and Mark moves into Jack when his husband leans to put his mouth to Mark’s ear. “Were you really goin’ to leave?”

“Yes,” Mark says after a moment, and doesn’t look at him. “I said some horrid things, and I knew—”

“Very little, all in all, if you didn’t think I felt just as bad for what I said to you,” Jack says firmly. “It was a nasty fight, Mark. We both made it that way. And the next time you take responsibility for an entire argument, I’m tying you up in the backyard on a chain.”

“Kinky,” Mark purrs, and curls a hand around Jack’s neck, leaning to nibble below his ear. Jack giggles and shies away from his mouth, but his fingers tangle in Mark’s shaggy hair and hold him close enough that Jack can easily turn and kiss his lips. They only pull apart when the wolf whistling from Jack’s brothers and sisters becomes deafening. 

When Jack gets to his feet to deliver his speech Mark’s stomach is steadily wringing itself to death. He swallows and tells himself that this is the fun part, the easy part, that this is the celebration after the fruitless, endless amount of chances that Jack had to run from him. But it still twists him up to think that Jack sat down and thought of everything that he loves about Mark, wrote it all down and now is going to read it to a roomful of family and friends.

“You weren’t what I thought you were, when we first met,” Jack begins, and his throat clicks when he swallows. He’s not reading from a paper or his phone, which means he’s memorized his speech. Mark stops himself from chewing on his lip and meets Jack’s eyes, immediately takes his hand when Jack holds his out. His long fingers tremble where they grip Mark’s like a life preserver. “You were an alpha, the antithesis to my existence—and you’re a big one. I was terrified of you, of what you meant when I discovered we were mates. I didn’t know what to do with myself, didn’t know how to act or what to say, and everything you did just confused me. You were the meekest, most considerate alpha I’d ever met, and you were just four days turned then. I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you, about how you walked and talked, what you said to me, the selfless way you just… accepted it in the beginning, that I wouldn’t ever want you. It didn’t take long before I realized how wrong I was about you, about us.

“It took you eighteen days of knowin’ me to say you loved me,” Jack goes on, “and it took me thirty-nine. It took you eighteen days, but I know you felt it long before then. I’ve had the privilege of watchin’ you develop into the werewolf you are today and seein’ your personal growth the past two years alongside my own, fuellin’ my own changes, bein’ the better half of me. You’ve saved me from myself a few notable times, saved an argument from imploding on one of us a couple more than that.” 

Jack’s face softens, his mouth frowning slightly when he pauses to gather his nerve. Mark feels like he’s drowning under the weight of his words, pressing on his chest like boulders. Smothered by their chasmic emotion, his breathing is shallow, his eyes unerringly on his husband’s glistening blue ones. “You saved me, Mark, from bein’ a meagre representation of myself. You saved me from bein’ the guy who hates alphas because he’s scared, because he’s mad that he’s scared and then lashes out at people who don’t deserve it. You kept me company even when you didn’t want to, stayed near me even when I was hard to be around. While we got to understand each other more every day you were savin’ me from givin’ in to stigma, and stereotypes, and you forced me to see you for who you were, and not what you were. 

“You made me see reason when I only wanted to see reasons to hate you,” Jack sighs, and his eyes are wet and tears are falling from their corners. Mark holds onto his unsteady hand and smiles weakly, knowing he’s not far behind. “You withstood me and my attitude, and let me in before I knew I even wanted to see inside you—and you never held any of it against me. You loved me day one and you’ve never stopped since, but you let me love you at my own pace. You’ve given me so much, and now I get to say with unparalleled certainty: I’ve loved you for what seems like eons and also just minutes, and I’m goin’ to love you until the dark takes us.” His expression cracks, fragile but humoured, and he smiles wetly. “And even after that.”

Mark shoots to his feet and crushes Jack in a bruising hug amidst the applause that’s scattered with sniffling, tucking his face into the omega’s neck and whimpering as he cries. Jack’s arms are around him at once and his hands stroke soothingly up and down his back, forehead pressed to his shoulder as he whispers gently, “Easy, big guy. Easy. I love you. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“You suck,” Mark bawls into his collar, and hears the laughs of a few of the werewolf guests. “How am I supposed to give a speech now?”

“We’ll wait,” Seamus calls from his family’s table, and laughter spreads through the small crowd again. 

It takes a minute, but Mark calms down enough to pull away from his husband and wipe his face—and Jack’s tux—with some cloth napkins. Jack sits again, holding his hand securely, and Mark bends to brush a delicate kiss over his lips, the kind of tender little touch that he knows makes Jack melt. When he straightens, Jack’s face is bright with colour and his eyes are lit up like lanterns. 

“Tough act to follow,” Mark says to the room, and some people laugh. His speech seems infinitesimal compared to Jack’s. He knows it’s shorter for sure, and probably less moving. But hopefully not less heartfelt. “I knew when I met Jack, the very moment I saw him, that I would love him. Maybe not right then, but soon after. He was cold and caustic whenever I was around, and there were several times when I tried to remove myself because I thought I wasn’t wanted. I’ve since learned that’s not the case, that my life has more meaning to others than I ever thought it could.” He glances one way, to Marzia and Felix and Henrietta, bouncing happily on her father’s knee, and the other, to Amy and Signe. “I’ve got more friends now, more family than I could’ve dreamed of. None of this…” 

He pauses when his throat constricts, and Jack’s hand in his is probably the only reason he can continue. “None of this means much to any of you, but to me it’s everything.” He turns back to Jack, letting his face ease into a simple, loving smile. “You’re everything. You do everything, are everything for me. It’s like magic, what you do to me, and it’s never-ending. Your influence is never-ending. Just your presence encourages me to be the best, the strongest. Your protector. I’ll happily spend my life protecting you, and…” He swallows, because Jack’s eyes are swimming when he looks down into them, and it crumples his composure until he’s crying again too. “And I’ll take my shield to the grave, keeping you safe.”

Slowly Jack gets up, eyebrows scrunching as he looks at Mark, and puts his arms around Mark’s neck, damp nose pressed to his throat and breathing in deep. His shoulders shake with the force of his silent sobs and Mark holds him close, consoling him through his tears even as Mark’s tears fall into his hair. He doesn’t realize that people are clapping until the sound tapers off. 

“I think our grooms need a moment,” Marzia muses to the guests, who chuckle. “Everyone, please help yourself to the food, and the bar and dance floor are open as well.” 

“Hey, love,” Mark says softly, hands rubbing over Jack’s shoulder blades. Jack makes a sniffling sound and doesn’t move from his spot. “Sorry I made you cry.”

“I made you cry, too,” Jack blubbers without lifting his head, and sniffs again. “God, I am ditchin’ my own weddin’ if there’s anymore cryin’ to be had.”

“Ditto,” Mark mumbles, kissing his hair.

Their first dance goes beautifully. Jack lets Mark take the lead, following with his easy grace and filling the silence with his blazing smiles as Mark twirls him or spins him into his arms. Near the end of their song others start joining them on the floor, and Jack comes close, resting his cheek against Mark’s as the floor fills around them and the song bleeds into another. Mark shifts their grip until he has his fingers woven through Jack’s, bringing them up briefly to kiss the laced knuckles.

“Did you ever think it would be like this?” Jack whispers as they gently sway.

“No,” Mark replies, and smiles. “It’s much better.”

Jack’s family is a handful and a half, in the best and worst ways. Seamus and Malcolm make sure to give every last inch of ribbing for the new grooms, every suggestive remark in the book until Jack is red-faced and one comment away from raging at them. With practiced ease Mark crowds him against their table and kisses him, kisses the anger out of him until Jack’s soft moan lets him know that the fire has been doused—and another one put in its place.

“He’s got your number, dear,” Jack’s mother, Augustine, muses. “He knows too well his effects on you.”

“And I am not shy about using them,” Mark says, beaming as Jack hides his face in Mark’s chest with a groan. “Don’t worry, I’ll only use my powers for good.”

“Outside the bedroom, anyway,” Megan adds, and laughs boisterously along with her siblings when Jack lifts his head to scowl at her, his cheeks pink. 

“She’s not wrong,” Mark says, grinning through his own blush. Jack wails and hides his face again, punching Mark in the shoulder. “Hey, take it easy, babe. I’ll put it to use tonight, no need to beg.” He laughs the hardest out of all of them when Jack pulls back to punch him even harder.

There’s dancing, drinking, laughter and food in abundance, but every party must end. By the end of the night Mark’s hobnobbed with everyone they invited, said his thank yous and received well wishes from every corner of the room. The amount of times the wedding guests requested the grooms to kiss was frankly embarrassing, but Mark kissed Jack every time with relish, with all the tenderness that he knows the years to come will supply. 

They say goodbye to the pack with the promise to call them first thing in the morning for breakfast, and then Mark’s taking Jack’s hand in his and climbing into the back of a taxi to take them home.

“Home sweet home,” Mark says as he unlocks the front door. He stops Jack when he moves to go in. “Hold on.” He slips a hand behind Jack’s shoulders and scoops him up with an arm under his knees, startling a giggle out of his brand new husband. “Got to do this right, after all.”

Jack’s smile is ardent, lovingly gentle as he reaches up and kisses Mark. Mark brings them over the threshold and shuts the door behind them, leaning back against it when Jack deepens the kiss, easing his tongue through Mark’s lips before licking inside his mouth and tasting what it has to offer.

“Mmm, hold on, beautiful,” Mark murmurs, and laughs when Jack just kisses him some more. He tosses both of their jackets onto the back of the couch as he walks inside, both of them long since having shed them at the party. “I’m serious, I have a surprise—”

“Me too,” Jack whispers, and squirms in Mark’s arms until he lets him go. On his own feet, Jack looks up at him with something electric in his gaze as he slowly moves his hands down Mark’s chest in a light tease of a touch. Mark leans after him when he draws away, coming like a magnet towards the slim, appealing man before him, but his husband just pushes him back with a coy smile. Stepping back again, Jack’s hands are languorous but efficient despite his five generous glasses of wine in unfastening and taking off his own shoes and pants which—he’s wearing nothing underneath. Then he’s undoing the buttons on his shirt and slipping out of that, too, and bending—with his ass to Mark—to remove his socks.

Naked, Jack turns back to face him and slowly eases him back to hit the wall leading into the kitchen. Mark’s heart is beating him to death and he knows Jack can hear it, but he doesn’t falter as he unbuttons Mark’s shirt one at a time, placing a kiss after each opened button. When he reaches the bottom Jack’s knees hit the floor and Mark watches his steadily filling cock bob with the jarring motion.

“Take off your shirt,” Jack says huskily, and Mark hurriedly whips his arms out of the shirt and tosses it aside. His husband’s return smile is dark with plans as his eyes roam over Mark’s chest, then down to eye-level at Mark’s groin. He lifts his hands and Mark tenses in anticipation in the moment before Jack touches him, then slender fingers are brushing along the overly warm—from his own significant imbibing—skin above his waistband. 

Jack leans in and puts a slow, wet kiss right above Mark’s zipper, openmouthed and full of tongue. Mark whimpers softly and makes himself not thrust into Jack’s face, even though all he wants to do is push himself into that gorgeous mouth. Looking down, he can see his own abs clenching with the effort of not moving. Jack glances up and sees it, too, and his hands smooth slowly up Mark’s stomach, fingers spreading over his tan skin, and then drags his nails back down again all the way to his belt. 

Mark’s groan is loud and harsh, and he curls into the sting of the scratches but almost right away the slight pain fades. “Harder,” Mark says weakly, and swallows when his voice comes out half-broken. “Harder, please.”

Jack obliges him, using one hand to undo Mark’s pants while the other draws its nails down his stomach again, much more forceful than before. Mark gasps at the pain and the responsive flare of pleasure that flashes through him, burying his hands in Jack’s hair. He doesn’t have to ask for it a third time, because Jack is already redrawing the red, angry lines that disappear almost as soon as they’re made. Shivers wrack over his body and Mark tilts his head back, chest heaving with his breaths.

With Jack’s help he steps out of his shoes and pants, and then Jack is eagerly pushing his boxer briefs down his legs and swallowing down his cock like it’s something he’s been craving to taste. Mark’s head hits the wall and he chokes on his next inhale, feeling Jack’s mouth moving over him quickly, up and down and up again as if he’ll never stop. His fingers caress back to Mark’s ass, stroking over the globes of his asscheeks and then biting in sharply with his nails.

It has the desired effect—Mark bucks hard into Jack’s mouth and his moan is wrenched out of his chest when Jack just swallows him down, humming his vicious approval.

“Are you sure?” Mark asks, legs shaking when Jack’s hands slide over his thighs.

Jack looks up at him without pulling away from his cock, without even drawing back to breathe, and waits. Mark groans again and cups Jack’s face in his hands and slowly eases his hips back before moving back in. Jack growls, though, making Mark gasp hard at the sensation as it vibrates through him, and digs his nails into Mark’s ass again. Mark’s expecting it and doesn’t buck, but he still jerks forward a little and Jack’s excited moan around his cock is loud, taut with desire.

“God, you’re insane,” Mark groans, and starts grinding his hips steadily into Jack. He watches his cock slide in and out of his mouth past those slick, swollen lips and feels Jack’s tongue working furiously against whatever it can get at. He moans low in his chest when Jack’s nails keep a painful pressure on his ass, making every pull back just a little more amazing each time. 

When Jack hums again Mark’s hips stutter and he laughs breathlessly when his mate just keeps going, keeps humming on and on until Mark’s whole body is shaking, his thrusts quickly becoming fast and brutal. Jack whines and hums, licks and sucks and drives Mark completely mental with his mouth until he’s sure he’s going to blow out his eardrum from all the pressure inside him. 

“Gonna come,” Mark warns him, and if he thought Jack was being rough before he was sorely mistaken. Jack’s nails tear his stomach apart and Mark shouts as he comes down Jack’s throat, making himself loosen his vicious grip on his husband’s face and fucking his mouth until he’s spent.

Mark’s noodle legs don’t hold him up worth a damn, and he slides down the wall until his ass hits the floor. Jack smiles at him, red-lipped and beatific, and his tongue travels over his lips in a tantalizing circle. Mark’s dick twitches with interest, and already he can feel his strength coming back as his mate eyes his body.

“How quick can you get it up again, babe?” Jack says. His own erection is flushed and weeping, neglected for Mark. 

He doesn’t answer, and crawls forward until he’s got Jack beneath him. He kisses a trail all the way down Jack’s chest to his groin, where Mark sucks him into his mouth and sinks down.

“Mmm, no, not that,” Jack murmurs breathily, and Mark pulls back with a quirked eyebrow. “Okay, now I’m just embarrassed to ask for it when you look at me like that.”

“Ask me,” Mark tells him, rolling his eyes. “It’s our stay-at-home honeymoon. If I can’t give you everything you want in bed then what good am I?”

“Good point,” Jack says with amusement, hands running over his shoulders. His face gets red as he mumbles, “Would you lick me? Uh, _there_?”

Mark smiles at him, nipping his teeth at the omega’s hipbone. “You still can’t even say it.”

“I hate to tell you, but I will never be able to say “would you please eat out my ass” with a straight face,” Jack says, already laughing. “And I will probably never not be embarrassed.”

“Couldn’t imagine why,” Mark says drolly, and gently rolls Jack onto his stomach. Jack obligingly tilts his hips up when Mark taps his butt, and Mark spreads his legs as wide as they’ll go. Mark has a mini moment of praise for Jack and his flexibility before he bends, but a sudden thought stops him. “Is this why you took so long in the bathroom before we left?”

“Be quiet,” Jack mutters, which is as much a confirmation as anything. 

“You big baby,” Mark murmurs, and licks the flat of his tongue over Jack’s hole. His husband groans and jerks, thrusting his ass out instantly to chase Mark’s tongue when he pulls away. “I’m not going anywhere, relax.”

“I’m dyin’ for you, come on,” Jack whines, and wriggles his hips under Mark’s hands. 

“Just relax,” Mark coos, running his hands along the omega’s thighs. “It’s your turn now.”

“Such a gentlemmm—oh!” Jack yelps, bucking as Mark laves over him, slow and wet. He traces around his hole with the tip of his tongue, teasing before dipping just inside, and then starts a rhythmic breach every time he circles. “Oh, you bastard, that— _ahh_ —” he tries again, but Mark grabs his hips and bites his cheek before licking another stripe over his hole. 

Rather than speak again Jack lets out a litany of slow, dreadfully arousing moans that only make Mark hard again, his dick aching between his legs and practically begging for attention. He ignores it, though, and fuels his mouth with his own desire, breathing hot breaths over Jack’s ass and watching it quiver, feeling him tighten around his tongue when he pushes inside, making Jack writhe and fuck back onto his face when Mark uses a hand between his trembling legs to stroke Jack’s cock. He takes his time, using whatever rhythm he has to work his hand in tandem with his mouth, stroking up when he pushes inside. He gets rougher and faster, unintentionally, until Jack’s back is bent at a harsh-looking angle, but his mate appears to be in no pain. Quite the opposite.

“Guh,” Jack gets out, and he pulls back slowly. Mark isn’t really sure what he even meant to say, but he makes an educated guess and lifts Jack up slightly, rising onto his knees and pressing the head of his cock against Jack’s slick hole.

“Is this what you want?” Mark asks him gently, palms sitting comfortably on his lower back. 

Before his mouth is open, Jack is already nodding. “Yeah,” he groans, and pushes back. Mark slips inside him with ease, and with another little adjustment Mark is pushing in steadily, halfway before pulling back and then in again.

“You’re my husband,” Mark murmurs, hands like a teenager’s as he roams Jack’s body, relearning it for the thousandth time. The moles on his back like a constellation, the dimples just above his ass, the dusting of freckles on his shoulders. “We got married today.”

“We’re married,” Jack agrees, and somehow he sounds fucked-out and radiant at the same time. His head turns to the side and he reaches back to pull Mark down along his back. Mark goes easily, switching his hips to a roll and feeling Jack’s body tighten around him when he starts to graze along a clearly sensitive area. Jack kisses his jaw when he bends over, nipping his chin with steamy breath pouring over his parted lips. “You married me.”

“You keep saying that,” Mark notes breathlessly, smiling and adjusting Jack’s legs with his in an attempt to get deeper—a successful one, by the sound of it when Jack groans, long and throaty. “Like I wouldn’t normally marry you.”

“I’ve been… awful to you,” Jack chokes out, then buries his face in his arms when his moans start to peak in volume and pitch. “M-muh—ark, god—uhn—”

“Let me tell you something very important,” Mark pants, and it’s killing his knees to be in this position but he’s not moving now, not when Jack is so close to falling apart in more ways than one. “It doesn’t matter whatever bad shit has happened. It doesn’t, not to me, because every time we found ways to work around it, ways to fix it. I knew long before you said you loved me that I was sticking around until you sent me away. And I was ninety-nine percent certain you wouldn’t. God, you feel fucking great,” Mark groans, his groin and stomach tingling with echoing pleasure. “So if anyone was surprised that someone married them, it was me. That someone as spirited, as outspoken, as brave and courageous and amazing as you would marry someone like me, someone who drives you up multiple walls daily. But I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” Jack moans, fingers clenching in the short pile of the carpet. “I lov—”

Mark kisses him before he can finish, grinding his hips hard and fast and sliding his hands around Jack’s body to grip his cock and tweak a nipple. Below him Jack jerks and groans, and Mark lifts them upright until Jack is on his lap. He rolls the nub of Jack’s nipple between his thumb and finger and fucks him slow through his orgasm, pumping his cock thoroughly and biting a toothy path up his neck. While he squeezes Jack of every last drop of pleasure he finds his own, and he thrusts up vigorously in hard, rabbity bucks of his hips, until he’s drained dry, too.

Jack leans back into his chest, the back of his head resting on Mark’s shoulder. “Holy shit,” he says, sounding a little dumbfounded.

“Yeah,” Mark murmurs, catching his breath. He laughs, then, and smooths his hands over Jack’s body, more comforting than arousing. “You never saw your surprise.”

“What is it?” Jack wonders sleepily.

Mark considers getting up and going to the kitchen to show Jack the letter he got in the mail, but he’s far too comfortable and he doubts Jack won’t believe his word. “I heard back from the agency.”

Immediately Jack is stiff in his arms, and he’s lifting his head to turn and look Mark in the eye. “Already? What did they say?”

“We should start figuring out baby names,” Mark tells him softly, and Jack’s smile is _incandescent_. “You’re going to be a daddy, Mr. Fischbach.”

Jack laughs, and his eyes spills over as he smothers a hand to his mouth to try and hold in a gentle, ridiculously happy noise. Mark sits there and holds him while he laughs and cries, and contentment blows through him like a summer wind, lively and warm.


End file.
